each day seems harder than the last. i find myself struggling
to live to someone else's fullest potential. let the ugly deliquesce from my face. i jam these fingers down my throat in hopes that tomorrow is easier. easier than yesterday.
a book once filled of photographs, some now removed to prevent onset of pain. i've played this scenario over and over again. i cannot give or take without guilt. every step taken. the foward momentum striking nerves. every step taken. this hole widens in my chest, a vicious cycle of pain that is passed on. you passed this curse, this plague. every touch, every kiss, every embrace... deepens my scars and spreads to others. i cannot love without guilt. time does not heal, it only makes you weaker. this void lets me know i am destined to die alone.
i would lasso her like a cowboy, but my rope isnt long enough. im dying here.

General Commentthree vocal parts, three writers of this one. i can't speak for drew or winston, but my part came from some inner turmoil i suffered due to inadequacies of my physical appearance..."jam my fingers down my throat" is a metaphor, however...i wasn't bulemic. :)